


Emotionless

by FacelessGhoul (MorphineFangs)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Character Death, Complete, Denial, Depressing, Disturbing Themes, In which he's not just sleeping, ShiroIchi if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphineFangs/pseuds/FacelessGhoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Emotionless.  You’re just so beautiful [asleep]."<br/>One-shot.  Loosely based on a song by the same title, by Red Sun Rising, but only loosely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotionless

**Author's Note:**

> Do not read if the idea of doing anything at all with a corpse disturbs you. No fornication or kissing though.

_“Emotionless.  You’re just so beautiful_ **_[asleep]._** _"_

It was all wrong.  How was he here?

He should have been inside King’s inner world, as he always was…

… So why exactly was he corporeal in the human world?

Shiro’s eyes wandered until they fell on a still form.

Clad in his usual human clothes, looking unusually frail and thin.  Hair, orange, yet dull and limp.  Skin pale, dark circles under his eyes.  No color in his cheeks; not so much as a hint of rosiness.

“Oh, King’s sleepin’,” Shiro muttered to himself, “I better keep quiet.  Looks really tired.”

Shiro wondered if maybe his King was ill. Maybe he should nurse King back to health.  It wouldn’t do for him to be so sick.

He didn’t wish to leave King’s side, but he knew humans needed food and water to get well.  Oh, and medicine!  Medicine was very important.

“Don’t ya worry one bit, King, I’ll take care o’ ya,” Shiro informed his sleeping King.

He rushed downstairs in search of the things he seeked.  As he reached the living room, he heard quiet, twin sobs.  He curiously investigated for the source of the sounds and found King’s two sisters curled up, clinging to each other on the couch as they cried.

Their eyes were red, the skin around them inflamed.  Puffy.  As if they’d been crying for a while.  Concerned, he reached out a consoling hand…

… only to phase right through them.  As if they were a mere illusion.

Shiro frowned.  That was strange.

He put it out of his mind for now.

_Must help King get better.  Worry ‘bout bein’ sane later._

In the kitchen, he was greeted by yet another strange sight.

Ichigo’s father— Isshin, he recalled— was at the stove, silent tears rolling down his face.  He stared blankly at the wall in front of him.  Smoke rose in plumes from a burning pot of macaroni the man was still stirring.  The noodles within were completely charred, and there was no water in the pot.

Shiro tried to lend a helping hand, but his hand phased through the pot when he attempted to pull it away from the clueless man.

His brow furrowed.  He tried again.

Same result.

Shiro shook his head.

_Worry about it later.  Help King._

The hollow wondered where the family might keep the medicine.  What would King need?

Cold medicine.  That would have to do.

It probably wouldn’t hurt any.

He’d check the clinic.  It was a safe bet anything he’d need was there.

The cold medicine was in plain sight on a counter in the clinic.  He took a moment to wonder why it wasn’t in the cabinet with the others.  Isshin was usually so well-organized and quite anal about putting the medicine all back where it belonged, to the point of having them in alphabetical order on the shelves.

_Doesn’t matter. Think about it later.  Help King._

Help King.  That was quickly becoming his mantra.

Like everything else, his hand phased right through the bottle of medicine.

This was beginning to become irritating.  He was willing to brush off the first two times, because the issue wasn’t of immediate importance to him, and therefore had been lower on his list of priorities.

This, however, would simply not do.

With a deep scowl of concentration, Shiro focused on the bottle as he reached for it.  He managed to pick it up this time.

With a triumphant smile, Shiro took the bottle back upstairs to give a healthy dose to King.  This would fix him right up for sure.

Stepping back inside the bedroom, Shiro approached the bedside of his ill human counterpart.  Just like before, his hand phased through his King’s body as well when he tried to shake the other’s shoulder.

It was quickly remedied with a bit of concentration.  On his second attempt, he managed to lightly shake his King.

“King, wakey wakey! Yer Horse brought ya some meds fer yer cold!”

Not even a twitch.

“... Ichigo?”

Nothing.

“Uh, that’s okay.  Guess ya need yer rest.  Ya jus’ sleep there.  I got this.”

He knew King had learned from his father how to administer medicine to an unconscious or otherwise unresponsive patient.  He could do it too.

Tipping the other’s head back, he poured one dose into his mouth and rubbed soothing circles into his throat to get him to reflexively swallow.

No response.

A spike of panic shot through Shiro.  Wrapping his arms around the other teen, he hoisted him up into a sitting position against the headboard of the bed.  Maybe it would just drain down his throat and everything would be fine?

“E-Everything’s alrigh’, King,” the hollow pat the other’s shoulder reassuringly, “I gotcha.”

His King slept on peacefully.  Shiro watched his King.

The pale twin was still worried.  But in this moment of silence, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful King was when he was asleep.

No scowl.  No furrow in his brow, or deep frown on his lips.  He looked so much more youthful when his face was so relaxed.

Yes.  King was very beautiful.

Leaning his head against his King’s shoulder, he fell asleep with him.

**_[Denial]_ **

When he next awoke, his King still slept on.  He was starting to smell funky from all this lying about in bed he was doing.  He must not have showered in days.

Shiro would have to fix that.

Concentrating as he had before to interact with the material objects of this world, Shiro lifted up his King and carried him to the washroom.

A quick shower had him smelling more like flowers now.  Although that stubborn stink still persisted, though the soapy smell did dilute it a little.

“God, King, gotta take better care o’ yerself than this,” the hollow grumbled, dragging his dead weight back to the bed.

Setting him on his back, Shiro pulled the covers over his human, tucking him in.

“Sleep now.  You’ll get better soon.”

Then he soon passed out at his King’s bedside again.

Days went by.

Shiro continued to remain faithfully by his King’s side, giving him regular doses of his medication.  He tried to feed him and keep him hydrated, sticking to liquids just to be safe.

A few times now, that annoying father of his had tried to drag Ichigo out of his bed to God knew where.  Shiro had put a quick stop to that nonsense.

After lashing out and raking three bloody claw marks down the father’s shoulder, the man had begun avoiding his King’s room like the plague was inside.

Shiro was okay with that.  King needed his rest.

However, in his opinion, King was sleeping way too much now.  It was time to employ force.  Rest was important, but there was such thing as too much sleep.

Shiro first tried shaking his shoulder, but that didn’t work.

He tried yelling.  It didn’t work.

He shook him again, more roughly, but it still wasn’t working.

He shoved him out of the bed.  The orange-haired boy just tumbled like a lifeless ragdoll to the floor, falling awkwardly on top of one of his arms with a sickening crack.

“King!” Shiro snapped, ignoring the sound that was most certainly a bone breaking.  He could heal it later.  “Quit messin’ ‘round an’ wake the fuck up!  Ya got responsibilities, y’know!  Don’t ya laze ‘bout like this anymore!”

Nothing.

Shiro knelt on the floor, pushing the teen onto his back and gave his cheek a hard slap.  That didn’t work either.

“God dammit, King!  Stop bein’ dramatic!!”

Nothing.

“Ugh!  I fuckin’ hate ya so much!”

**_[Anger]_ **

Shiro sat, straddling his King’s hips, hands on his shoulders as he tried again to shake him awake.  He’d been at this for an unmarked amount of time.  He hadn’t bothered keeping track.

Clambering a short distance away, he proceeded to bang his head into the floor as hard as he could, screaming in aggravation.

He glanced toward his King tiredly.

In a soft, too small voice that cracked from disuse, he said, “Please wake up.”

He crawled back to his King’s side, holding the other to his chest as he sat on his heels.  His breathing, unbeknownst to him, was escalating to a rapid pace.

Tears threatened to fall, “I-I’m sorry, King!  I’m sorry fer not helpin’ ya more.  Fer lettin’ ya get hurt all the time.  I-I’m s-sorry fer threatenin’ t’ harm yer friends.  I didn’t mean it, I swear.

“I’ll never hurt them.  I-I’ll never threaten ya ‘gain, I swear!  I’m sorry fer hittin’ ya.  An’ yellin’ at ya… an’ gettin’ mad… an’ sayin’ I hate ya.  I didn’t mean it.  ‘S not yer fault, ‘s m’ fault.  All m’ fault

“I-I’ll take the blame s-so…” Shiro whimpered softly, “... please wake up.  I’m beggin’— ... I’m beggin’ ya… doesn’t tha’ mean anythin’ t’ ya?  Yer always tryin t’ make me behave an’ prostrate m’self.  I’ll do it fer ya.  I-I’ll be g-good.  Please?

“... Ichigo…?”

**_[Bargaining]_ **

Then the hysterical sobs finally came.  They racked his body, shook his shoulders, made him weak.

He clung to his King desperately.

The tears wouldn’t stop.  They couldn’t stop.

“King, why won’t ya wake up?” Shiro mumbled, his chest heaving with his sobs.  

He buried his face in his King’s neck, ignoring the increasingly putrid smell.  He’d bear with it.  He knew his King would appreciate his selfless consideration.

“Am I not enough?  D’ya not wan’ me anymore?  If I brought yer friends, would’ja wake up fer them?  A-Anyone?  I’ll bring Orihime.  Rukia?  Renji?... Chad…?”

For hours, he clung to his King and offered to give him anything he so desired.  Offered to do anything to make the other happy.  For hours, his King never woke.

He was in a forever sleep.

Eventually, Shiro’s tears ran out.  Not because he wouldn’t cry anymore, but because he _couldn’t_.

His eyes were painfully dry.

He didn’t care.

**_[Depression]_ **

And then… it happened.

First were his feet.

He watched, mesmerized with deadened eyes as his own feet faded away.

His feet were gone.

Then up to his knees.  Up to his stomach.

His chest vanished away.

Shiro laughed, a dry, humorless laugh, “Oh, I see… he’s…”

_… dead..._

**_[Acceptance]_ **

Thus, the last remaining piece of what was once Kurosaki Ichigo faded from existence, as if he’d never truly existed at all.

…

**Emotionless**


End file.
